[BOOK2] Sequel to Tangled Hearts
*****
I want her.
I want her more than I've ever wanted anything.
But I can't have her. Because the moment I admit that out loud, the moment I risk everything we've built, I could lose her.
And losing Isla? That's...
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Theo's fingers thread through mine, firm and unyielding, as he pulls me behind him. His body is all coiled tension, the kind that promises violence if provoked.
"Sutton," he grits out, voice sharp enough to cut.
Jake has the audacity to laugh, leaning just enough to catch my eyes over Theo's shoulder. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Dwyers," he taunts, that smug smirk still plastered across his face. His gaze flicks to me, lazy and possessive. "See you later, babe."
Before he can spew out another word, Theo moves. Not with hesitation—no, never that—but with purpose. His grip tightens, and then I'm being dragged away, his long strides forcing me to keep up.
We don't stop. Not when we pass the soccer field. Not when we push through the side entrance of the gym. Not until we're tucked into a quiet alcove, away from prying eyes, away from Jake's bullshit.
Theo turns, his palm still wrapped around mine, anchoring me to him. His eyes sweep over me, dark and searching.
"Are you okay, Luna?" His voice is low, rough, like he's barely keeping his temper in check.
My heart is still racing, my pulse a frantic drum against my ribs. I nod, but it's not exactly convincing.
Theo sees right through it. Of course, he does.
"You sure?"
His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, slow and deliberate. His other hand comes up, skimming along my jaw, tipping my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his gaze.
"Because if you're not, I need to know now before I go back and finish what I should've started."
The heat in his eyes is lethal. Not just anger—something deeper. Something far more dangerous.
My breath catches, and for a second, all I can do is stare at him. At the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his chest rises and falls like he's trying to keep himself from snapping.
"I'm fine," I whisper, even though I'm not sure that's true.
Theo's jaw ticks, his thumb still tracing slow circles along my skin. "He touched you."
It's not a question. It's a statement. A fact that's now sitting between us like a live wire, humming with electricity.
"He grabbed my arm," I admit, because there's no point lying to him. He already knows. He always does.
Theo exhales sharply, like he's barely containing the urge to turn around and hunt Jake down. "That won't happen again," he says, his voice low and sure. A promise. A threat.
I don't doubt him for a second.
Theo is still staring at me like he's memorizing every single inch of my face, like if he looks away, I might disappear. His grip on my hand is firm but not demanding, his thumb still skimming slow, steady circles along my skin. The warmth of it should be grounding, should pull me back into the moment. But my head is spinning.
